Diary from the Cobwebs
by QueenofPotatoes
Summary: Violence and rape. For about three years, Ginny Weasley has been having violent nightmares about her old nemesis Tom. Her therapist has tried many different treatments, none of which have helped. Now her nightmares have become reality...haven't they?
1. I Dare You

I often don't venture into that dark corner in my mind where you used to lurk. I get a couple thoughts, occasionally, that would probably make you proud. You know the ones. Angry, dark thoughts, ones of murder and blood, winter and chains and torture. They don't come that often, but when they do I try to push them away. Lock them back up in the cage where they belong.

And what sickens me is that every time I have them, I feel… happy. No, _delighted_. It's almost like I want you to look at me and tell me I'm not just a worthless little girl, and that these thoughts are good, that they make you like me. You did once before, but you lied, didn't you? You and everyone else.

They say I'm strong, that I was brave, and that I've worked well through this. But I see the look in their eyes, and it contradicts every word they say, every comfort they ever gave to me. Sometimes I wondered if they thought I let you in on purpose. Sometimes I wondered if I did.

But I've grown up now, and I'm no longer weak and pathetic. I feel it's time to clean out some of those cobwebs so I can see clearly, and know exactly what happened, exactly what I had been thinking. I want to relive it full blast, nothing to interrupt the memories, nothing to stop the pain.

I've barricaded the door to my room, laid myself down on the bed. I'm ready now Tom. It's just you and me, one on one. One last and final time. I won't let this haunt me any longer. I won't let _you_ haunt me any longer. So Tom, come and find me. Do your worst. I dare you. _I dare you._


	2. A Madman's Dungeon

A sound, a giggle from above made her get up and pause the tape for a moment. Giggles turned into chuckles, and then into full-blown laughter. Maniacal laughter, the sound of madmen.

"Tom?" she cried out in the darkness, trying to keep her voice steady. She could feel her palms shaking and sweating, and wiped them quickly on her nightgown. "Tom! I know that it's you! Come out! Show yourself!"

The laughter stopped suddenly, and not a sound broke the silence but her quick, shallow breaths. 'Calm down!' she berated herself. 'He's not there. I'm imagining it all, like Dr. Washington said. He's not real anymore. Harry killed him. He's dead. I'm imagining it. I'm imagining it.' She repeated it over and over to herself, trying to steady her body. Her legs had joined her hands in short, rhythmic spasms. "Goddammit, WHY WON'T THE SHAKING STOP!" she screamed, and then froze. Nothing moved in the room. No one was there.

She sighed in relief, slightly worried that she had imagined something so seemingly real. Lifting the covers, she dropped her gown off, pulled on a nightshirt and dropped onto the bed. Her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow, and she found herself more tired then she thought. Breaths began to become deeper, and soon she was asleep.

Later in life, she couldn't remember what exactly had woken her up, whether it was a nightmare, an urge for a glass of water, or nature's call. All she remembered was waking up, looking around and realizing she was no longer in her London flat, and that the bed under her was metal.

Fear couldn't even begin to describe what she was feeling. Her heart felt like it was going to rip through her chest at any moment. Questions were racing through her mind, where was she, who took her here, why was she here, and possible ways this could've happened. The door had been barricaded, and unless Spiderman had broken in, she doubted anyone would've climbed up seventeen floors to get in through the window. So how the hell did they get in?

A tiny giggle interrupted her thoughts. The laughter from before had returned.

Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find some place where the voice had come from, but the light had gone out and the room was left in total darkness.

She stumbled back, tripping over her feet and falling onto her back. She quickly sat up and tried to scoot to the corner of the room, where she would be safe a moment longer from whatever was making the horrific sound.

The laughter had begun to die down, returning to the original giggle, then stopping altogether. A voice called out to her from the shadows. "Tom! Tom! Stop it Tom! You're scaring me Tom!"

Then the laughter started up again, harder then before. The voice had been high-pitched, almost a squeal. A horrible, cruel imitation of her own. "Tom! Tom! Stop! Please! Why Tom? Why!" The laughter filled the entire room, like there were thousands upon thousands of people instead of just one. "Tom! Tom!" Harder and harder the laughter became, until she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Who's there!" she cried over the noise. "God, please. Tell me who's there! Stop it! STOP IT!"

"Stop it Tom! Stop it!" the voice mimicked her, laughing and laughing, never even pausing to take a breath. "Tell me who's there! Please! Just stop laughing! For the love of humanity, stop laughing!"

She felt as though she were screaming to no one for all the good it did. The voice continued to cry out with her in that horrible mimic, "Tom! Tom! Stop it! Stop laughing!" then laughing hysterically. "Please…just tell me who's there! Please! Stop! Who are you?"

Hot tears fell rapidly down her face, burning like acid on her skin. Once again, the sound stopped abruptly. Seconds passed, forming minutes, and still the laughing didn't start again. She released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and closed her eyes, trying to erase the memory of the laughter. "Who are you?" she whispered to herself.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see utter darkness. What she didn't expect were two empty red eyes staring back at her.

She shrieked, wincing at the sound of her voice echoing in the dungeon room. If anything would attract it that would. The eyes seemed to get closer in a matter of milliseconds, and quickly there was a face inches away from her own. "_Boo."_

She could feel the thing's warm breath on her cheeks as it uttered the word, hot and sour and reeking of death. The sudden warmth sent a shiver down her spine. It began to speak.

"Ginevra, foolish Ginevra. You know perfectly who it is. I am the monster that hides under your bed at night. I am the spirit that follows you in the midnight hour. I am the creak of the bedroom door, the moaning of a hundred years of heavy wind, the crack of lightening in a thousand thunderstorms. I am every nightmare that has ever plagued you mind, come together to create the ultimate monster. _I am a thousand times your worst fear." _A sharp intake of air. "_Tom!"_

His snicker echoed throughout the room. "Well it seems you're not the weakest link today Ginevra. Bingo, that's right, you've won a million dollars! Now, let's tell this little princess what she receives! It's your choice: You get one wish or you go free. Which one will it be, sweetheart? Hm? We're all eagerly awaiting your decision!"

He swept his arm across the dungeon, as if motioning to a live studio audience that was watching their every move. There was nothing, no one. Nothing in this room was moving except them. "Come on honey. Anything you want, your hearts desire, or you leave. Pick. Door number 1 or door number 2? The choice is yours."


	3. When you wish upon a star

A/N: I finally updated! Everyone celebrate like the rabid little monkeys you are!

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I get to wish for something, or I get to…go?"

"That's what I said sweetheart. Unless your deaf as well as stupid," he answered, his mouth stretching into a hideous, misshapen grin.

"If I go, will --will you come back?"

"Of course I'll come back. I could never forget you Ginevra. Not in a million years." She could feel a finger trail down her cheek, cold and wet as if a slug were climbing on her face. She shuddered involuntarily.

"What…what can I wish for?"

"Anything in the world, my dear. Anything in the world." He was so much closer to her now, his eyes glowing and dead.

"You can wish for the world to end," he snapped his fingers, and a fire started near the door,

"…or for true love," another snap and a rose appeared in her hand,

"…or for someone to die," a headstone popped up next to her,

"…or to know what happened when you weren't aware of your surroundings. In sleep, in a trance…possessed."

He said this one with that insane and grotesque smile, and with another snap a glowing pensieve materialized in his outstretched palm.

"Or," the pensieve disappeared, "you can wish that poor old Tommy will never see you again. What'll it be darling? What will it be?"

Her breath was coming out in short gasps now, thoughts piling upon one another. _I can wish for anything, he said. Anything. What if he never bothered me again? I could end therapy, and get on with my life, and never think about him again._** But what happened while he was possessing me? I could find out. All these years, dreams that might be memories… memories I wish to be dreams…**_ Or he might keep me here forever. He never said I'd get to leave if I wished. We should wish him dead. He's already dead though. _Then why is he here?

"What if I wanted…you…to die?"

He laughed again, and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Oh, I was waiting to hear that one! Darling, I'm nothing but a memory now. There's no REAL monster here. It's only poor old Tommy boy. I exist only in your mind."

"That's impossible! If you're not real, then why can I feel you? Why can I see you? Why can I hear you? How can you be here if your dead?"

"Have you really forgotten so much in so little time? I can keep my memory alive in an old diary. Do you really think that I couldn't in your pretty little head? The human brain is an incredible thing. We feel what we think is real, what all logic tells us exists. I am only a projection but have no doubt that, to you, I am very much alive. I can touch you, hurt you, taste you…"

She took in a large, shaky breath. "Okay," she whispered, "okay. A wish. I…I wish that I could know what happened. In first year, when you…took over my body."

He chuckled once more. "Your wish is my command."


	4. And so it begins

AN: I know! I'm a horrible person for not updating. I'm a procrastinator and a lazy ass. But look! A new chapter! All hail! Anyways, thanks for the reviews guys. You keep me sane. Well, that and the insane amounts of chocolate. Mm…chocolate. Anyway, cookies for all if you review! BTW, I forgot to mention (hehe), this story is pretty much independent of everything after CoS

All at once the walls that surrounded them melted away. The floor disappeared from beneath them, as did the ceiling. Soon there was only them. Them and the darkness.

"What's going on Tom!" Ginny screamed. Her voice seemed to echo in the emptiness. "What the hell is going on!"

The corner of his mouth turned up a bit, hardly noticeable. "Why, darling, you said you wanted to know what happened. What better way then to watch from the outside? Every little detail, every move you make, we'll see. Now hush. The movie is about to begin."

It was as if they had touched a Portkey. She felt a tug on her body and all at once the scene rushed forward. Waking up and seeing Harry at the breakfast table. Walking through Diagon Alley. The fight in Flourish and Blotts. Everything slowed when a little black journal was slipped into her cauldron.

"This is where it began," Tom commented. "Hell and heaven for me, honestly. Sure, I got to get out, but my GOD were you ever boring! Every single day it was the same damn thing! 'Oh, I think I saw Harry looking at me across the breakfast table with those dreamy green eyes of his. I wonder if he'll ever notice me! Sigh!' Somebody shoot me in the fucking head!" He laughed again, a crazed man's laugh. "Oh, but I made it good eventually."

She shot a nervous glance at him, wondering exactly _how_ he had done that. Seemingly reading her mind, he turned to her, widening his eyes and grinning.

"Let's skip ahead a bit, shall we?" he suggested, but already the scene was moving forward. She saw herself, standing naked near the girl's bathroom. She was covered in what looked to be blood. Her eyes were hazy, a small smile on her lips. Hardly any emotion was conveyed at all in her face. Only…only emptiness. Somewhere in the castle a clock chimed three a.m.

A figure came out from behind her, their footsteps silent.

"Good work Ginny," Tom's voice called out. She whipped her head around, but Tom shook his head and motioned towards the scene. Her brows furrowed together as she looked back.

In front of her, Tom was caressing the cheek of the younger Ginny, a smug look on his face.

"How is that…how is that possible?" she murmured.

"Your little friends didn't figure out everything as neatly as they had hoped Ginevra. I was not alive merely as a memory inside that pathetic little journal. I was free _long_ before that."


	5. A Good Girl

A/N: I decided to just get this chapter out. I was on a writing spree, I've edited, and there's nothing else to do but let it sit here and fade, so I'm posting it REALLY early. All hail! I'm making a promise: I will update once a week or more. PROMISE! Cross my heart and hope to die. And I'll try to make the chaps longer. It's just that I love cliffies so much that I try to get them in at the end of every one, and end up making it come sooner than planned. And! Don't worry about all the complications that this plot has when mixed up with CoS. The solutions will soon be revealed… Another note, I might be upping this to R. Just in case. It gets just slightly more graphic in this chapter. Maybe more so in others, maybe not. Email me and tell me whether I should. Total moral dilemma in my head…

P.S. Seeing your reviews really does make my day. You guys are SO GREAT! glomp

"Explain."

"What do you mean, Ginevra? What is there to explain?"

"Everything."

"Such as…"

"Oh I don't know! Maybe why I'm nude and covered in blood! Maybe how exactly you were both outside and inside the diary at the same time! Maybe every goddamn thing you have up to this point either disregarded, brushed away or blurred with your vague statements! Tell me straight out, right now, what is going on!"

He clucked his tongue. "So young, so naïve. All in good time, darling, all in good time."

"No! Tell me now. I want to know what the fuck is going on, and I want to know RIGHT NOW!"

Everything paused. In the scene in front of them, Ginny, frozen in time, was raising her finger to add another letter to the horrid message she was writing out. Tom was standing behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other on her hip.

"Choose one."

"One what?"

"Choose one question. I will answer one question for you, right now. The rest will be answered soon."

"How were you in and out of the diary at the same time? In the chamber, when Harry…"

He chuckled. "What your little savior destroyed, my dear girl, was nothing but an illusion. I lived safely outside of that little book, watching, observing, pulling the puppet strings when need be. I continued to write to you, so you wouldn't become suspicious, continued to pretend to care. Tried to manipulate your mind, with the hope that maybe one day you'd pull a Pinocchio on me and become a real girl. That the puppet strings would break and you would continue on your own. A feeble dream, yes, but possible."

"So if you weren't controlling me through the diary…"

"Your mind was weak and malleable. Like clay in my hands. Simple charms, and the padlock broke."

Her mouth was shut tight, as were her eyes, as if she were trying to forget everything that was in front of her, to return to her room safely. Vomit rose, hot, in her throat.

"Turn it back on," she whispered. "I want to see what happened next."

It flickered back to life.

"Good work Ginny," the Tom on screen repeated. He was pressed up close to her, both of his hands now resting on her hips.

"Then again, you always do good work. You're a good girl, aren't you?" His voice was growing softer, smoother. Ginny nodded. Her eyes gazed at him, unseeing. Like staring at fog.

"Such good work…" He was nearly purring now. She nodded again. He pressed firmly down on her hips and spun her around so that she was facing him. "You always do such a good job…You want to please me, right?" Nod. "You know what would make me very happy?" Nod. She fell to her knees.

"That's right…such a good girl…"

Her lips parted.

Her head moved forward.

"Such a good girl…"


	6. A note about DftC

A/N:

So, here we are again.

For a while, I was really excited about this fic. I would get into the groove of writing and updating and reading reviews, then using the energy from the reviews to write more. And then it stopped. I'm not quite sure why...I suppose major events in my life just knocked this so far down my list of priorities that I never bothered dragging it back up to the top.

So my profile sat and sat, stories collecting proverbial dust on their proverbial bookshelves. But the other night, I was reading some emails from Kelly (aka SingerofDoom) from those years, when we were ridiculously close, and kept reading about both of our fanfics, and a wave of nostalgia made me look up my username to see if it still existed after all this time.

Lo and behold, it did. I reread the stories, and found most of them to be...pretty badly written. What can you do. "Day the Impossible Happened" and "Once Upon a Boy" were pretty much unsalvageable, but "Diary from the Cobwebs"...I don't know. I felt like I might actually have something. After I finished, I remembered every plan I had for the story, the 'twist' I had written out twice, three times, forty-seven times, and could never quite finish. So I finished it. At 3 am, I opened Wordpad (I just got a new laptop, and I have yet to load the microsoft shit onto it) and just wrote.

It's a little darker, I suppose. With age, you become less restricted with that kind of thing.

The catch: I need to know if there's still interest. I hate to seem like I'm asking for handouts, begging for reviews, but I feel like there's no point in uploading the rest if everyone's given up hope in this and there's absolutely no interest whatsoever. So 5 reviews. If I get 5 reviews, I will update this fic.

I hope the old readers might give this another chance.

Peace.


	7. Circles

A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews, it was a little shocking to see how many people still wanted this story updated. To all of you who were expecting a novel-length fic...sorry. I know where I wanted to go with this, and this will be the last chapter. It's a lot longer than the previous ones, if that helps. Again, I'm expecting to rewrite the previous chapters, maybe add a few things, who knows. And I may even write more fics. It all depends. Anyway, thank you to the readers, and here is the last installment of DftC.

The laughter began again. Tom gently placed his arm around her shoulder, as if to console her, and chuckled.

"You were quite the little naive little angel there for a while, as would be expected, but after a few...er, _lessons,_ you proved to be quite beyond competent in the pleasure department. I must say, once you became adept at that little feat, controlling you was quite a bit more entertaining, wouldn't you say so?"

"No..."

Ginny stood gaping at the scene playing before her, horrified, watching herself knelt in front of that creature, that despicable...

"No..."

He was laughing as she sucked him off, laughing and tugging at her hair, forcing himself down her throat further. And she was laughing too. _She was laughing too._

"NO!"

She ran toward her younger self, tears clouding her vision, pounding and kicking and flailing and sobbing the two in their detestable act of passion, to no avail. This was all in the past, and nothing could change it now.

"You _bastard!"_

He smirked.

"I was eleven..."

Her eyes were wide with disbelief and horror.

He smiled.

"I was eleven." Every word she uttered was low and danergerous, filled with poison. "_Eleven years old._ Do you understand that? Do you understand what you've done? This shithole I call a life can be attributed to you. _I was eleven_! A fucking child! There I was, Miss Never-Been-Kissed, waiting for the Boy Who Lived to be the first one to lay a _finger_ on me, and you _fucking RAPE me!"_

Tom smirked.

"If it's any consolation, Ginny dear...I meant what I said. You were fantastic."

All the strength, all the poison in her body escaped, and she deflated, collapsing on the floor in tears.

"How could you do that? I was just a...just a child..."

"Are you really posing that question to _me_? To the great He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? To You-Know-Who? A wizard so dark and so feared people still tremble to say his name even though he's been_ dead for years?_ A wizard who may go down in history as being the MOST evil person to ever grace the earth? Do you really believe that the fact that you were a child, that you were a sweet and innocent little girl waiting for a white knight who didn't love you anyway, would deter me in the least? Wake up Ginny! You were not the first child, and certainly not the last. Do not delude yourself. I am a monster, I am your nightmare. Don't dare humanize me, _don't you dare. _Don't imagine that there's anything I would not and could not do."

She was curled up on the floor, trembling and heaving.

"Poor girl, poor darling Ginny. What wicked wicked Tom has done to you." The scene around them melted, and they were once again in darkness. He stood above her, laughing, a pale hand reaching out to stroke her hair. "What do you say we-"

"Don't touch me."

His hand recoiled slightly. He had been expecting anger and fire and rage and blows for the supposed loss of innocence. Not this hollow voice. Not this dead voice.

"Show me what else happens."

A wave of his hand, another scene. This time she was in the Forbidden Forest.

"Wait...they never said anything about this. Nothing ever happened in the forest."

"Just watch."

The young Ginny was sitting in the middle of a clearing, foggy eyed, silent, and totally still.

"What did I-"

"Hush!"

So they waited, Ginny silently crying, Tom watching eagerly for her reaction.

After several endless minutes later, they heard a stirring in the brushes. A unicorn emerged, giant, shining, stunning.

Ginny's breath hitched in her throat, all too aware of what was about to happen.

"I don't want to see it Tom, please, I can't see it, I can't bear to see it, _please Tom! I can't stand to watch it! Take it away, make it go away! I can't look!"_

But she did.

She watched the scene before her, she watched the tragedy about to unfold.

She watched as she slowly approached the beautiful beast, and she watched as she soothed and stroked it, and she watched as she tore it's heart out, and she watched as it dyed tragic and slow, and she watched as she sliced it open. She even watched Tom fuck her in the pool of it's silver blood.

She watched and she cried and she waited for it all to be over, but it would never be over. It would play and pause and rewind and play again and again in her head forever and it would always be the same, the white of his seed mixing with the silver of the unicorn's blood, the ache in her knees as she knelt in front of him, covered with feathers and death, the fog in her eyes as she groped blindly for the only person she thought loved her, and the terrible cruel cold laugh, the everpresent sound that haunted her and soothed her.

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I...loved you."

"I know."

"You can't love."

"No."

"Take me home."

"I can't."

She stood up, still shaking, and looked at him evenly.

"Why?"

"You _are_ home darling."

Those red eyes...

That maniacal laughter...

The cold hands...

The hard stone slab beneath her...

Voices...

So many voices...

A man...

A pale man...

A pale man with cruel eyes...

"Strap her back down, some of her restraints have come loose."

The doctor's voice was calm and cold.

"Administer the tranquilizer."

Ginny rolled her head around on her shoulders, gazed up at the ceiling.

Up, secured high in the corner where no patient could reach it, was the camera, a constant bodyguard, with it's bright red 'Recording' light.

"Tom?"

Bright red, and cold...

"TOM!"

They rolled her through the hallway, strapped to her thin metal slab. Her screams had awoken other patients, and now the sounds in the hallway filled her eardrums until they were about to explode, system overload, failure to compute.

"Her information doctor?"

"Ginevra Weasley, aged fourteen and seven months. A patient for the past three years. Rape, torture, and other traumatic events led to mild brain damage, dementia, hallucinations, thought to be..."

His voice faded, and in it's place was laughter, louder and louder and louder and louder until the hallway rang with it, high-pitched and awful, and she looked around for the source of the terrible noise and it was her, and all of the other patients, and they were laughing and laughing, and it was Tom back from the dead, standing above her, stroking her hair, asking, _begging_ for just one more, for old times sake...

They locked her back in a single, padded cell, a helmet and a straight jacket for her own protection.

"I'm ready now Tom! it's just you and me, one on one. One last and final time. Do your worst. I dare you. _I dare you!"_

That laughter that never stopped...


End file.
